The First Stroke of Joy

When the sky gestured at the break of morning, there was no hint of rain. It was a bright sunny morning. A glorious night of 7 hours’ non-stop sleep had woken me to a peaceful state of mind. No scurried thoughts from an unfinished dream, no humdrum of changing the kid’s diaper moaning under the dampness of the night. She was still sleeping peacefully next to me. I tip-toed to the washroom and instead of darting out to start the day, pottered about in my little balcony garden. The chair flashed its most tempting profile to woo me to sit and soak in the morning freshness. But the prospect of the kid waking up unpleasantly in my absence discouraged such indulgences.

From here the day moves ahead as usual. Only that there is a certain element of languidness to it today. I can feel it in me...in the air...in the kid. She is peaceful and more accepting of things today. With the day approaching, her usual antics are parked aside, and she is a happy ball bouncing about the house. I could even dare to linger on a little over my phone, now that she gets busy with her toy. I lift my head from the phone to check what is keeping her so quiet, and the sight of the ‘pretend i-pad’, the toy we had thought we lost, brings a smile on my face. It keeps her busy for good fifteen minutes. My hopes surge and I move on to another something. I manage half way through it, when she comes running to me, protesting and demanding for the balcony door to be opened. I look through the window at the sky which has turned into a deliberate grey now. The readiness of it to come down roaring is unmistakable. Did she smell the rain before me?

We don’t waste time and take our balcony seats on cue. In unmatched eagerness, we wait for nature to unleash its play. But we cannot get there without a little teaser, can we? Hence the breeze prepares the ground, quite literally, sweeping and tossing up dried leaves, to make way for the shower. The toddler’s excitement reach greater heights at seeing the leaves whirl up and the plants sway. The wind chimes respond to this mad call of nature and the clink-clank from it makes my girl dizzy happy. She discovers something new in this little space of ours – the chimes – in the shape of a bird and sun, and now she insists on touching them to my horror. I try to distract her with her tea-pot, from which I have been drinking copious amount of imaginary tea lately. It helps. She moves to the potted plants now, presenting another reason for me to fuss about, but not before a dried leaf flies high enough to catch her attention.

On a Wednesday afternoon, it is least likely for people to sit out in their balconies. Even more unexpected is of them to watch this game of nature unfold without the usual distractions. But there they were, one after the other, a host of them out grabbing their seats, eager, now that the stage is set, the teaser is over. An army of people ready to witness a gust of wind that yields the first round of Florida shower. Just at this moment, without an announcement, almost out of nowhere, a giant white truck slithers into our complex. And to my annoyance, parks itself right beneath our apartment, carrying a height enough to block our view. I don’t have to tell you what this giant white blob does to ruin the pretty picture – a careless stroke of brush on a perfect canvas. However, instead of getting miffed over it, I ask my girl questions around it to keep her busy. She gets them all right, but she looks uneasy, just like me, at this wall that has been erected infront of us – like an annoyingly tall and muscular man on the row ahead at the movies. The truck persists. One household item after the other roll out of it. Two men in black tees and shorts help with what turns out to be someone’s move-in day. The sky is still patient, as though it has read our minds. After a long haul, a king-sized mattress marks the end of this painfully long transfer of things. And just about when this giant foam of a mattress is being navigated in, the first big dot of rain touches the ground. It falls softly at first, in a way to nudge the workers to hurry up and not keep everyone waiting. On not being heeded with respect to this timely warning, it comes pouring down in crisscross missiles like the heaven is playing the game of darts. This sends the workers into a mad rush to finish their job. Once done, catching their breath, they retrieve to the truck, and dash out of our sight in no time. The whole campus erupts into an echo of the sound of rain hitting the ground and trees undulate under the cool breeze.

This spectacular Florida afternoon rain cools down the pathways and plantations, just like our temperaments. The toddler sprints about the balcony chiming rhymes – a happy spirit like one I haven’t seen in a while. I make many failed attempts at recording the face of this whirling bliss to show it to the husband later. Eventually I stop pestering her and leave her alone to her playful self, while I savor the sight from my spot.  

It will take a while for her to understand the science behind this phenomenon. To understand that, you cannot have rain at your whim. That, she will have to wait for the sky to be willing enough to release itself of its weight and yield. That, it is because of these, and other intangible feelings it evokes, one should be grateful when the heaven decides to rain.